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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355655">This Can't Go On</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewrites44/pseuds/shewrites44'>shewrites44</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:33:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28355655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewrites44/pseuds/shewrites44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor reconnects with an almost forgotten lover. <br/>This takes place a little after the season 12 finale!!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>This Can't Go On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Doctor looks solemnly out of her prison window, wondering how much longer she’ll be held there. The markings on her wall exceed a few months, but she realizes that she genuinely doesn’t know how long it’s been. Her window faces the dark, deep space too far out of the orbit of any sun. For all she knows, the Doctor may have been there for well over a year or maybe only a few weeks. </p><p>One thing is sure, though; she hates it in here. The stench of mold hangs heavy in the dry air of the prison, and there’s never any peace. Most other prisoners recite sonnets of their grief and anger late into the night. The Doctor, too, speaks to herself, whispering stories of time travel and fighting aliens. She speaks of a time machine and how her engines groan warmly in flight and women named Sarah Jane, Rose, Clara, and Amy. The stories leave her mouth tainted with grief, regret, and a hint of disbelief. She finds herself questioning adventures, profoundly concentrating on small details, trying to fight the blur that threatens her sanity.</p><p>Most days, the Doctor lays on her stiff cot, letting her mind wander hopelessly, accepting that her escape is impossible. Other days, with an ounce of hope glowing in her psyche, the Doctor excitedly composes different ways to escape. She calculates her speed, assesses her knowledge of the prison, and daydreams of the relief she would. But even by the end of good days, a hopeless sorrow makes its home in the Doctor’s heart. </p><p>Today is not one of those good days. </p><p>The Doctor shivers against the brisk breeze coming through her window, gently pressing against her warm cheeks. Her limbs feel heavy and sore, and every breath feels labored. She leans her weight forward, pushing her face far enough to feel the humming of the electric bars that stand between her and the rest of the universe. Heavy footsteps of the guarding Judoon vibrate against the floor, stopping at the Doctor’s cell. The Doctor doesn’t turn around, adamant to express her dismay. </p><p>“Turn around, inmate,” the Judoon grumbles, his voice low and heavy.</p><p>A few moments after no response, the Judoon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring of differently sized keys. </p><p>The hairs at the nape of the Doctor’s neck stand up, excited. Her cell doors have never been opened, not even for the cold, hard food she’s been given. </p><p>Her cell door groans against the weight of the Judoon, protesting as if begging for the Doctor to remain imprisoned.</p><p>“Inmate!” the Judoon barks, startling the Doctor.</p><p>The Doctor turns around, the cadence of her four heartbeats pressing into her inner ear. Her chest tightens as the excitement grows, nearly suffocating her. Cautiously, she approaches the Judoon’s silhouette. Fluorescent light floods into the dark cell, bouncing off the many rough ridges of the stone cell. </p><p>The Judoon dangles a pair of chained handcuffs, motioning the Doctor to stand still. The Doctor spreads her feet apart, giving the Judoon space to lock the cuffs around her ankles. She squints against the white light, imagining a possible escape. She could kick the Judoon in the face and maybe make a run for it, but where would she go? What if some Judoon is waiting for her to make this make outside her cell? There are too many odds against her favor, she decides. </p><p>The Judoon stands up again and locks the Doctor’s wrists into the steel cuffs. A short chain connected to all cuffs pulls the Doctor into a hunch.</p><p>“I’d be okay, you know, without all the extra cuffs,” the Doctor chimes, leaning her face into the Judoon’s. He grunts and grabs the hook of the Doctor’s arm, nearly carrying her out of the cell. <br/>The prison’s hallways burn the Doctor’s eyes, and she squeezes them shut. Another Judoon hooks into her other arm. Together, not Judoon drag her through the hallways. The Doctor squints, trying to make out where she is and how the hallways look, but her eyes are weak against the light after staying in the dark cell for so long. </p><p>After what felt like forever, the Judoon come to a staggering halt, jolting the Doctor’s body. One of the Judoon knocks cautiously against a heavy steel door.</p><p>“What are you doing?” mutters a Judoon. “You know they can’t hear anything in there, right?” </p><p>The other Judoon knocks again, this time with more force. </p><p>The Doctor smirks, finally understanding that the Judoon aren’t in charge. </p><p>A hissing sound echoes through the hallway as the steel doors open. The Judoon pushes the Doctor forward through the doors into a warm room. The heat relaxes the Doctor’s muscles, humbling her excitement.</p><p>The Judoon unhook from the Doctor’s arms, letting her fall to her knees. </p><p>As they leave and close doors behind them, the Doctor lets her head hang. A strange, unfamiliar dread overcomes her. As her eyes adjust to the dark again, she lets her hands roam the ground. A soft Iranian rug welcomes her coarse palms. </p><p>The Doctor follows the red, glowing hue that embraces the hall. She cranes her neck, letting her gaze climb the grand, marble staircase. The red hue outlines the blurry silhouette of a familiar. With her hands and feet still chain, the Doctor struggles to stand. Her mind rakes through her memories, trying to identify the figure before her. </p><p>She explores the rest of the hall, her gaze landing on a stone plaque. Engrained in it is a familiar title. The memory tugs at the Doctor’s consciousness, beckoning. Fighting against her own weight and the chains, the edges of the Doctor’s vision begin to blur, and the bile from her empty stomach climbs up her esophagus. </p><p>Too weak to stand, the Doctor collapses, her unsteady gaze fixated on the stone plaque. </p><p>Dårlig Ulv-Stranden it reads.</p><p>A surge of adrenaline courses through the Doctor’s veins. She remembers the title; she remembers grieving the memory of it, she remembers burying it deep in her soul.</p><p>Bad Wolf Bay. </p><p>“It can’t be,” the Doctor mutters, her body succumbing to weakness. She tried to lift her head but the muscles in her neck, fatigued, resist. The dark outlines of her vision envelope her sight, and she lets out a defeated sigh. </p><p>“Rest now, Doctor,” a voice says. A welcoming hand caresses the Doctor’s cheek. “You’re safe here.” </p><p>The Doctor grunts, falling into a deep sleep.</p>
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